#i can be a little bit of an evil angst gremlin. as a treat

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

Willie doesn’t have anxiety, doesn’t really get anxious. Not really. 

Not like Alex does; Shaking hands and rapid unsteady breath, a constant drip of tenseness down his spine and a niggling worry about anything that crosses his brain. The hatred of change, of the unknown.

Not like Reggie does sometimes; the worry that sprouts in his chest when he thinks his band members are having a fight, the way he shuts down and glances between them, looking for anything wrong in their expressions, ready to make a joke to diffuse the situation, breathing shallow and shoulders brought in to make him smaller.

Not even like Luke; hands fidgeting and him bouncing slightly, anxious to prove himself, to be good enough, to have someone think he’s done good for once. Desperate for the approval he’s always deserved and never got, waiting for their final judgement.

Willie doesn’t have anxiety like that, but sometimes...

Sometimes he’s skating and a car comes at a certain angle, or hits on the breaks and it sounds like that night-

And then his heart is racing and he’s flinching away and there’s no reason, no reason for him to feel so affected, but his body’s tense and suddenly he wants to curl up, wants to cover his ears to block out the phantom screeching of tires, a thud that never comes, a pain that never hits him, sometimes he’s skating and then he’s not. He’s back on that road, that night, that broken body, that piercing ringing in his ears that never quite leaves after the initial impact, and he can’t breathe except for gasps, and he knows it’s not real anymore but that doesn’t stop the adrenaline and panic spiking in his heart.

Willie doesn’t get anxious.

But then... why does he feel so scared?

[cheseyre]

good news, sluts! my brain's no longer being completely stupid (only mostly), i've seen the new asides and...have some thought-y thot thoughts:

*deep inhale*

Okay, first things first: this art style is soooo fucking cUTE and I'm a jealous, squealing bitch. Anyone who knows who the artist is, could you link me to them, stat? I think Thomas mentioned them at the beginning of the ep, but nYeh, brain hurt, doesn't wanna do wooork-

Okay, I'll admit, I was a little...apprehensive when I first saw the thumbnail and title. Part of it's just me being a bitter Remus Stan, but also...okay, deep breaths, controversial opinion time, get ready:

I don't ship Prinxiety.

Like, at all. 

I can see the appeal, and these dorks were so very, VERY cute in this particular ep, but I was honestly turned off by the ship long ago due to how overwhelmingly popular it is and how some fans characterize these two and treat this relationship as if it's the only valid one, y'know, the works—slight tangent, but that's also why I don't ship Logicality or Remile. I honestly vibe much better with ships like Roceit or Analogical, y'know?

Cutting in for another brief tangent: I'm surprisingly okay with Demus/Dukeceit/Receit/Trashnoodle/Whatever-Their-Ship-Name-Is-Oh-God-Why-Do-They-Have-So-Many-Fucking-Names; maybe it's cause they haven't actually interacted in canon and the fan content gives me such good Gay Disney Villain content, idk man im weird—).

Still, their interactions were both hilarious and sweet and like I said, I see the appeal, it's just not my cup of tea. y'all Prinxiety fans got fucking FED and I'm happy for you nerds. Enjoy ze happy boys!

I guess another factor in my...low-key hesitance when I first saw what the ep was about is that...okay, get ready, another controversial opinion, le gasp: well, I'm not a big Virgil fan. In fact, at times, he swaps places with Patton as my least favorite sides—especially with some of his recent behavior in eps like DWIT (the "prohibit your breathing comment" really triggered me, for example). Sometimes, his attitude, especially around other sides like Roman or Janus, reminds me a little too much of my sister, who I don't have...a very good relationship with. Add to that how the more...intense side of the fandom has a disturbing tendency to turn him into the 'uwu precious woobie emo baby who can do no wrong' while unnecessarily villainizing other CERTAIN sides in the process, and...I think you all see where I'm going with this little rant 😅

However, upon actually watching the ep, he wasn't...that bad? I don't think? I enjoyed watching him be a flustered, disaster-y mess and genuinely excited at the end, his interactions with Roman were nice enough, and him literally pushing Thomas to make a move with Nico despite his obvious panic attack was a nice moment of genuine character development. I like seeing that, that's the good shit right there. And him being all flustered and shit, and smiling so much at the end of the vid was just...well, adorable. This man has no fucking right to be this cute, my god

alsoooo 

pURPLE EYESHADOW

PURPLE EYESHADOW HE LOOKS?? SO GOOD?? WTF?? SLAY EMO, SLAAAAAAAY FUCK, DOES THIS MEAN I HAVE TO CHANGE MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME NOW?

alsoooo 

hAPPY ROMAN

YESSSSS~ MAH BOI MAH SON MAH DUMB BITCH HIMBO PRINCE MAH EXTRA MESSY CINNAMON ROLL

ITS  BEEN SO  LONG

AND HIS LITTLE HEART EYES THROUGHOUT THE VID, OH MY GOD-

IMMA JUST IGNORE THAT "ADDING [MISTAKE] TO THE LIST" COMMENT I AM LOOKING AWAY I DO NOT SEE IT LALALALALA

THOMATHY, SIR, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT MAKING THESE TWO GAY IDIOTS SO BAEBY

Okay, but Virgil not realizing that "cyberstalking in real life" is literally just stalking is both a big ass mood and further proof that, yes, Logan is indeed the only one holding the braincell out of this disaster of a lot. God help them all if he ducks out in the next ep.

👀

And Thomas x Trash Can is my new OTP.  I dub thee ✨ "Trashmas" ✨

we sTAN TRASHMAS

Wait, does that mean Remus actually WAS in the ep? Cause, y'know, trash man?

hmmm

👀 👀 

Okay, okay. 

With how much Virgil and Roman were going off about Thomas constantly lying, I was (understandably) a tad bit disappointed my snek son didn't even make a fucking cameo, but y'know what? In hindsight, I'm okay with this it's fineee~

He was just off playing with shadow puppets and stealing money from us desperate, content-starved peasants with his sheer extra-ness and, honestly? Gotta respect the hustle. 

Get that precious, precious coin, dapper snake! Wring us poor losers dryyyy!

*evil snek laugh*

Also, this is a breather ep and adding Janus in probably would've caused unnecessary drama with the Roceit breakup and the constant antagonism between Virgil and him. It probably would've distracted from the point of the ep (flirting with social anxiety, exactly what it says in the tin)—much like it wasn't really Virgil or Remus's place to show up during POF. Does that make sense? I think it makes sense. Sorry, brain going brr-

Still, I can't believe the "Fuck Janus Sanders" Club is actually canon now 😂

God, first Patton in a skirt and now this. 

Thomas Sanders, you delight in fucking feEDING this gremlin nest of a fanbase, don’t you? You RELISH our screams of joy and pain and suffering, dON’T YOU?

What's next, actual canonical Janus and Remus interaction? Patton saying the fuck word? The Dragon Witch comes back? Janus's bowler hat gains sentience and takes over the world, Doris-style? What do you have planned, Thomas? Joan? WHAT ART THOU PLANNING, I MUST KNOW YOU HEATHENS YOU FIENDS-

And Virgil's little "would it be fair to him" comment, tho.

👀

Like, I get in the context of the ep, he was likely talking about Nico and how it wouldn’t be good for a potential relationship with Tomas to be founded on lies, but still...my anxceit heart aches, man. 

Gimme that sweet, sweet angst with a side of mutual regret and possible future reconciliation and maybe something more wink wink nudge nudge on top, pls

...and fries.

Honestly, tho, that entire bathroom monologue was fucking beautiful, man. And relatable, too—i can't tell you how many times I've talked to myself in public restrooms because I just didn't know how to get the words I wanted to say out. It's...kind of embarrassing, tbh

Speaking of embarrassing, uh, crying stall guy.

Just...

Crying Stall Guy

Like, I was expecting someone to come out the bathroom stall after Thomas stopped talking, but...I honestly wasn't expecting that. God, that whole scene was so cringe worthy and fucking hilarious

Honestly, Thomas in the ep in general was a huge ass mOOD and we collective gay/bi disasters ALL related with him, and if you say you don't, you're either lying to yourself or a demon. 

There is no in between 

sorry I don't make the rules

Like, I get this series is literally a gay disaster talking to himself for thirty minutes or longer, but like- EMPHASIS on the 'disaster' part 😂

Like...Thomas, you're lucky you're such a goddamn bean, because GOD, I cringing so hard when he first started talking to Nico

Although, I too have apologized profusely for genuine mistakes and am a flustered bi mess around my crush sooo

😅

And god, Roman's "thirty = old man" jokes made me feel old...and I literally just turned twenty, like, come on, man!

Maybe that's because I was literally watching this ep after finishing my ACT and had been sitting with a bunch of high schoolers, with their tiny fucking desks and tiny fucking water fountains smeh

*clears throat*

Anyways, uh, we STAN Nico Pintrovert Florés in this house

Like

He gives me such big Carlos from WTNV vibes for some reason and this makes me sooo happy

and YESS, he's a WRITER

And he's??? So sweet?? A pure bean?? Just sits on his laptop at the mall food court all day, like a god-fucking iCON?? A Nightmare Before Christmas fan?? weARS GLASSES??

my hEART

*cries*

The fandom seems torn between "Nicomas" and "Karrot Kings" as a ship name atm—personally speaking, I'm casting my vote for the latter

*crosses fingers* please dont be another janus x remus multiple ship name issue guys, please please please I can't keep track of them all-

*clears throat*

On that note, I'm guess I'm gonna go try and whoo over my crush with carrots now. If THIS disaster can do it and make it actually fucking work, god damnit, so cAN I

Meanwhile, in hell, my brain's just screaming "CANON LOVE INTEREST CANON LOVE INTEREST CANON LOVE INTEREST-"

God, I hope Nico isn't just a one-shot character, he's too pure and Thomas and him are adorable gay Disney fans and I stan

Oh, I wonder how the other sides'll react to him.

Wait.

Oh god.

Oh god.

This ep just unleashed a new fresh hell of potential Nico x Sides ships, hasn't it?

Welp, time to prepare for ze incoming flood of fanfics, I guess. I'll get my umbrella and rain boots.

That last shot of Virgil during the endcard was so fucking ominous oh my god mom im scared can you come pick me up-

Goddammit, Thomas and Joan, I'm NOT fucking ready to be traumatized again, fUCK

I wish I wasn't a broke ass university student so I could contribute to Thomas's gloriously extra Patreon—both so I can support my favorite content creators who make this amazing blessed content and also, to join my boi Janus in fucking  destroying society by giving money to the people who actually deserve it, fuck YOU GOVERNMENT-

Okay. 

Okay. 

New headcanon time as to why Patton, Remus, and Logan weren't in the ep: they were helping Jan film that Patreon promotional video. 

Like

Remus directed it, Logan helped with the lighting and script, and Patton was just there as the cheerleader. 

The reason Janus made a dog with shadow puppets wasn't just to flaunt his deity status and prove how he is truly above us mere wretched mortals 

despite that being the absolute truth and we all know it, don't lie to yourselves

No, it was really him trying to do something cute and silly for Patton, because Moceit rights, daMMIT

*inhales*

noww 

guys, gals, and nonbinary pals

it’s time forr

the most wonderful time of the yearrr

WAITING FOR THE NEXT EPISODE

Step right up, folks! Hear ye, hear ye, my prediction for the next episode: Prinxiety v. Moceit! With special guest stars: Karrot Kings vibing in adorable gay and Intrulogical, bitter at being excluded aGAIN

Who will win? Who will lose? 

here’s a hint: we all will because in this sick twisted game they are no winners only losers-

Place your bets, folks! ✨

Haha im not readyyy~

tl;dr

this episode has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and ended my suffering—an adorable calm before the... angsty fucking shitstorm that’s coming far too soon. Prinxiety stans, enjoy your food. Place an 'F' in the chat for me and my fellow grieving Remus stans. Trashmas is the true OTP, but Karrot Kings is cute too I guess. I've only had Nico Florés for 24 minutes, but if anything happens to him, I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself. Purple eyeshadow Virgil makes me question my sexuality aGAIN, and happy gay disney prince rights y'all. Say a big ole 'fuck you' to capitalism by giving your local dapper snake moneys. Concussion makes brain go brr and imma go buy some carrots and be gay now.

psst hey @quarantinevibes2020​ you wanna join me in being disaster-y? i’ll bring my best gay stare and you bring the wine

Until next time, my lovelies! ~ Ches 🖤

[daylightlucidity]

Hmmmmm... Zhan Tiri?

What I love about them: okay, there’s a lot, but i’ll try to be brief. for one thing, i absolutely love the zhan tiri lore in the show. it’s super open-ended and full of such interesting pieces, and it’s fun to kind of sort through all of it and develop different theories and stories. i also love how ziti was depicted as this eldritch god figure through the legends shared the first two seasons, only for the show to subvert expectations and introduce ziti as the enchanted girl. i spend so much time thinking about reconciling what we see of zhan tiri in season 3 with the rest of the established lore, and it’s really fun to think about

i also just love baby gremlin ziti, and how her demeanor changes over season 3 from a sweet, composed, somewhat-innocent looking little girl when she’s trying to win over cassandra’s trust, to becoming downright feral by the time cassandra’s revenge comes around. she’s just so petty and dramatic, and she’s such a fun villain to watch

(i also can’t talk about zhan tiri and not mention destinies fulfilled; that entire fic was motivated 100% by my desire to see ziti’s character more fleshed out and to explore more of her dynamic of cassandra in early season 3, and how that dynamic changes over time with that extra depth to her character. this story is what i wanted their dynamic in canon to be sO BADLY)

tl;dr: I Just Think She’s Neat

What I hate about them: i did not enjoy her final demon form in the end of PEEV; the design was such a let down, after all of the build up through the entire show.

i am also forever upset that we didn’t get more depth to her character in canon, beyond the the snippets of established lore and handful of interactions we see with her and cassandra. i really wanted her motivation to be more nuanced and have more depth than just “i want the drops because Power, and i want to destroy corona because Demanitus”. it’s frustrating because all of the pieces were there to make her such a compelling villain and they just...didn’t do anything with it

and i remember reading a thing or two about how the writers shied away from giving zhan tiri any depth / clear motivations because they were afraid it would take away from the cassandra & rapunzel storyline that was at the center of the show, and i could see how it would, but still. it would have been fun to see some more depth

Favorite Moment/Quote:

she has so many great lines accompanied by even greater facial expressions, but i think what takes the cake for me is:

“Oh Cassandra; so predictable. Have you learned nothing from me? No matter how formidable an obstacle, everything has its weakness. And I have a gift for finding it.” *twirls with acid and falls through floor*

honorary mention; every scene involving ziti and her boomerang. you have no idea how much i love the fact that the weapon of choice of an ancient, powerful demon is a fucking boomerang dfghgfds, it Kills Me

What I would like to see more focus on: i want to see more stuff focused on her character, and on her background!! zhan tiri is such a central part of the lore on this show, and i’m continually upset that there isn’t more content trying to unpack all of it / more content treating her as a real, fleshed out character instead of just a cardboard cutout villain. i want to see ziti interacting with the disciples! i want to know more about her history with the great tree! and given that canon established that demanitus is an unreliable narrator (re: omitting the fact that he partnered with ziti for this quest), what was the actual story there?? how much truth is there to the legends?? there’s a lot to unpack, and i want to know!!

What I would like to see less focus on: please, i’m begging, less focus on ziti used solely as an angst generator/cardboard cutout villain. she can still be evil and have characterization that’s more than a teaspoon deep

Favorite pairing with: okay. so i know that the common answer is ziti/demanitus but...my thoughts on whether or not this pairing works is based completely on how it’s handled. i hate this pairing when it’s used to drive a “woman scorned” narrative for ziti, but i can kind of jam with the idea of ziti and demanitus kind of recognizing each other as Equals while in pursuit of the drops, then kind of falling in love with the idea of the other but not quite pursuing a relationship, before it all goes to hell and they become bitter enemies. i think if handled right, there’s some interesting stories that could be told with that pairing

also writing destinies fulfilled put the idea of cass/ziti into my head and now it won’t leave

Favorite friendship: cassandra! (re: destinies fulfilled). i wanted their “friendship” in canon to be genuine so badly D:

NOTP: i recently learned about momtiri, and i super do not like the idea of zhan tiri/quirin. the idea of that pairing made my head spin just a little bit.

Favorite headcanon: oh god, i have so many headcanons for her that i forget what’s canon and what isn’t tbh

my favorite headcanon is that zhan tiri never says anything that’s false. sure, she is INSANELY manipulative, and she’s big on withholding information/lying by omission/twisting her words around, but she never says anything that is untrue 

[ysalamiri-queen]

2019 Fic in Review

Inspired by @myevilmouse I’m going to sum up all the writing I’ve been up to the past year. I’m really proud of what I’ve accomplished, and thanks to you all for the encouragement to put my ideas out into the world! This has been a year of trying new things, and really growing as an author I feel… And wow according to AO3 I’ve written about 400k words in the past 12 months, damn. So let’s get to the list, going from the beginning of the year to the end, and as always please heed the tags on these before reading.

Note: As I go back, I’m realizing a lot of the links were messed up or are just straight missing. I am on the Mobile App so things can get messy. Please visit my works page on AO3 HERE to see all of these on my page under JessKo and my other pseuds.

1 Late Night at the Slab

Idea: Filling a prompt for the Thryce server in which some, uh, unique Chiss anatomy was assigned.

Result: A 3-way with Thrawn, Arihnda, and Eli and my first foray into the more Xeno side of things in a Modern AU setting. Yeehaw!

2 The Trouble With Free-Roaming Ysalamiri

Idea: Based on some adorable ysalamiri cuddles art by @strength-through-order I wanted to write some Thranto fluff.

Result: Ysalamiri-filled Thranto fluff X’D

3 Inquisitor’s Debt

Idea: What if the Grand Inquisitor changed sides at the end of Rebels season 1?

Result: Some fun throwbacks with Obi-Wan and Caleb Dume leading up to Quizzy defecting with Ezra.

4 Ancient Stems

Idea: Eli Week drabbles based on the Vanto Week prompts.

Result: A silly buzz droid narrative with Thrawn and some cute slice of life Eli backstory/Ascendancy days bits.

5 Charnsuka

Idea: Kinky stuff with Lord Garmadon when he’s an Anacondrai.

Result: Kinky stuff with Lord Garmadon when he’s an Anacondrai. Sorry Zane!

6 Caged Like Prized Birds

Idea: Again inspired by the awesome Chiss anatomy and Thrux drawings by @strength-through-order , I wanted to craft a narrative around Armitage, as a young man, stumbling upon a clone of Thrawn.

Result: Man, this might just be one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, had so much fun plotting it out and the smut is mmm! Tentacles everywhere~ I’ve gone back to re-read this a lot, I’ll admit it. I hope you all enjoyed it too.

7 Quiet On Set

Idea: Must. Write. Talos.

Result: A cute little platonic x-reader with everyone’s favorite Skrull. This was my first MCU fic too.

8 Diagnostic

Idea: Wanted to apologize to Zane for the damages done in Charnsuka with some Glacier shipping fluff.

Result: A silly glacier thing leading to a bit of foolery. I’m happy with it!

9 Heron Soaring

Idea: A continuation of the plot line from Heron Rising with Kanan and Thrawn.

Result: Too many feels… but some great sex to soften the blow, Kanera too!

10 Patron

Idea: Responding to a tumblr prompt from @wukeskywalker regarding Thrawn commissioning LOADS of artworks of Eli.

Result: More Thranto fluff! I see a trend here…

11 Black Heron

Idea: Kanan x Pryce for @myevilmouse , I think this was our first ‘collaboration’ on something!

Result: Juahir hires a special someone to show Arihnda a good time!

12 Red Heron

Idea: @star-wars-rebels-4 is always an amazing wealth of ideas for Grand Inquisitor, and encouraged a work featuring him and Kanan.

Result: Delicious back alley smut when an undercover Jedi is caught!

13 Warm Homecoming

Idea: Give my and a friend's OCs some cute fluff.

Result: OC fluff and a vacation to Hoth!

14 sowing the seeds

Idea: Add something cute to the spank war project.

Result: Another contender for my ‘favorite thing I’ve ever written’ rank. Two chapters of pining, cooking lessons, and sweet slick smut.

15 Red Frost

Idea: After watching “The Evil of Frankenstein” with @sneakybunyip ‘s amazing movie night group, I wanted to do something fun with Victor and Hans.

Result: A fun little adventure fic with some huddling for warmth to boot. Victor and Hans are the hammer-horror-verse Thranto send tweet.

16 a setting sun to hide the ruins

Idea: What if I tortured Kanan to the point he turned evil and joined the Inquisitors (and went a little insane in the process)

Result: Instead of torture, let’s just use some serum that drives him mad. Perfect. Smut ahoy, pretty much a dead dove type fic.

17 Pinktown

Idea: When browsing abandoned towns in Florida, I came across Flamingo… what if Thrawn had been exiled here instead.

Result: An alternate history of Thrawn’s exile and eventual discovery by the Empire. Huge thanks for @badgerandk on this one for the perfect epilogue and beta.

18 the sun rises to only illuminate the stranger i have become

Idea: Setting sun… part 2! But it’s actually what happens before sun?

Result: How Kanan ended up where he is for ‘a setting sun’... lots of imp smut and again, it's sort of a dead dove style fic.

19 Frozen Over

Idea: Ar’alani x Eli Vanto

Result: Somehow me and my writing partner ended up at sensory deprivation focus on this one.

20 Shape of Honor

Idea: Well, this one started in 2018 but ‘finished’ in 2019. Still working on the epilogue. Lots of tweaks… If you are not familiar, this is my AU in which it explores how the Thrawn novel and Rebels show would be altered if Palpatine distrusted Thrawn from their first meeting and accused him of being a Chiss spy. Vaguely inspired by the film The Shape of Water.

Result: Well it's nearly a novel now, isn’t it. This was a great adventure in learning how to create compelling story arcs. I’m extremely satisfied with how it is shaping (lol) up.

21 Datura Stamonium

Idea: Thrawnbine ovi smut.

Result: Oops it has plot now, a whole backstory with Eli and such and so fourth. Will need further stories told…

22 Desert Entropy

Idea: Luke/Wedge modern AU shenanigans.

Result: Also pulled Nath/Wyl and the Rogue Squad/Alphabet Squad peeps into this. Set in Vegas, Luke and Wedge meet and have a cute little romance, but some legal troubles set them back (Palpatine, as always, is That Bitch™) Very happy ending!

23 The Great Eli and Thrawn Prank War

Idea: See Chapter 1: Mullet Thrawn

Result: This thing really grew up, and thanks to all the contributors for allowing me to join in! My contributions were: 7-Bombs Away! In which a bit of drama brews and Thrawn makes a paint bomb that forces him and Eli back into being roomates. 11-Tooka Troube 2: Electric Boogaloo in which Eli finds his quarters slowly filling up with Tooka plush toys, and then something huge goes off in supply. 17-The Bitch is Back In which who knew Thrawn could sing?!

24 Clipped Wings to Keep Us from Flying

Idea: Continuing the story line from Caged Like Prized Birds

Result: Dragging Eli and the OG Thrawn into this, seeing that their stories were left untold in the first work. Also Armitage and the clone are up to all sorts of cool things. Still a WIP, on the list to keep working on this year!

25 I’ll do what I can.

Idea: Some Ronan/Krennic feels post Treason

Result: A Ronan character study that I really needed to get out of my system and finally a stable alliance between Krennic and Thrawn!

26 Purple Heron

Idea: @punk--kenobi and I concocted some fun Kanan/Zeb/Hera smut featuring Lasat heat cycles.

Result: Ah this came out so cool, full of emotion and wonderful imagery. Massive kudos to @punk--kenobi for beta-ing my portion and contributing some of the best smut one can find!

27 Ninjago Angst Week 2019

Idea: Do some 1-shots for Ninjago Angst Week

Result: ow right in the feels. Each character got a highlight in their own ‘dark retelling of a canon or canon adjacent event’ chapter.

28 Vertigo

Idea: Thing’s don’t go right planetside for Eli, Pik, and Waffle in Treason.

Result: Big oof. I hope Eli can one day forgive me… I even put strain on the end game Thranto! Bittersweet ending and lots of angst.

29 More Than Just a Treat

Idea: What is Obi Wan up to in the desert…

Result: Aunt Beau and baby Luke baked him cookies obviously!

30 Datura Metel

Idea: Continuing the Datura cycle…

Result: Just how Eli ended up where he did in the first installation.

31 Here & Now

Idea: Some Thranto Fluff! For @jewelliffer

Result: A camping trip for shore leave! And a marriage proposal for extra sugar.

32 Monster Under the Bed

Idea: Benevolent Boogeyman Chiss

Result: Modern AU Thranto spooky sillies. Bit of an intense climax but they talk it out!

33 Haunted by Sentiment

Idea: Nath is in denial of being the Squad Dad for @glassprowlers

Result: Nath’s very bad no good oh so terrible day! It's very silly and I really like how it ended up, the title is way more serious than the story itself XD

34 Pulse

Idea: Werewolf AU Lavashipping

Result: Oops Kai is a werewolf! Good thing Cole is here to help him figure out how to press on.

35 Stories from Area 51

Idea: remember the raid Area 51 meme? I do! Gotta clap them alien cheeks!

Result: Oh no it got PLOTTY! Pretty much all of my favorite characters and ships cherry-picked and plopped down into a Men In Black style facility in the middle of the desert. I really have a thing for the desert huh…

36 Good Day

Idea: The “truth” behind the “Good day, Lieutenant Vanto” from Thrawn in Treason.

Result: Oh stars the FEELS! Thrawn is in deep water and he KNOWS IT! GAH!

37 Fur Ball

Idea: Chiss are mogwai/gremlins…

Result: Silly Thranto fluff. Thrass shows up too! Feeding them after midnight is actually a good idea here… Grow your own ideal man!

38 Came Back Haunted

Idea: A mission fic centered around the @peters-pumpkin-day prompts.

Result: Ice planet survival with Tarkin, Krennic, Galen, and Ronan.

39 Sewn Together

Idea: This drawing actually is what lead to the fic-

Result: A fairly unique reuniting of Thrawn and Eli after both return to the Ascendancy.

40 Spiked Heron

Idea: Oh no… Kanan gets himself in deep poodoo this time.

Result: Devaronians really like humans huh? The next chapter is half way written I swear it is coming soon!

41 A Colder Embrace

Idea: Thrawn/Purrgil/Ezra and Luke/Wampa for SW Rare Pairs.

Result: It's very cold on Hoth… and even colder in space.

42 Surround

Idea: Luke/Wedge for SW Rare Pairs

Result: Luke has to confront Wedge post ESB regarding what is, essentially, his deserting the Rebels.

43 What Happens Planetside…

Idea: Eli/Pik/Waffle for SW Rare Pairs

Result: heheh a scrumptious Eli sandwich! And surprise tentacles because, well, why not?

44 Hesperidium

Idea: Fluffy Kylux for the Kylux Secret Santa event

Result: Ah its so sweet you might get a cavity

45 Reanimator

Idea: Lovecraftian eldritch horror Thranto

Result: This is the sort of project that it takes 2 months to fine tune each chapter, so bear with me, but I can promise a wonderful, creepy ride is ahead!

46 Floral

Idea: Luke/Faro for SW Rare Pairs. Enjoy the Jedi lovin’, @myevilmouse

Result: Sex pollen and accidentally defecting from the Empire. Whoops!

47 The Harch

Idea: Bouncing off of THIS art by @mamidlo , we worked together to create this plot. Very much inspired by the Hammer Horror films, such as Dracula and Frankenstein.

Result: A fun and spooky romp of Kallus and Zeb getting trapped in a creepy castle featuring mind controlled drones and a species-obsessed Harch. This was my first time posting the entire story at once, too!

Wow, I can not believe how much has been written this year. Thank you all again for reading and kudos-ing and your amazing comments. I’d not be here without the support and love <3 Cheers to 2020 and much more fic ahead!

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

“Dibs on the shower! I just really like showers, and sometimes the occasional bath.”

don’t think too hard about this, because if you do you’ll think about the way his parents always fought. you’ll think about all the ways he tried to escape. he practiced his music, he left the house, he did whatever he could to not be around when the shouting matches began.

but you can only play so loud before the yelling is focused on your noise, and sometimes you can’t walk out when your parents are right there.

so he’d take showers. showers to drown out the noise, to transport him to a place where it was him and luke and alex, playing music because it was in their souls and not as a distraction from the yelling voices of his parents. 

he’d take baths when it went on for longer than normal, letting the water thunder as it filled the tub. he’d slip back and let his ears go under, muffling everything, and close his eyes. 

it was too bad that the water was never able to completely wash away the words.

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

There’s a letter somewhere, crumpled up and smoothed over and folded a million times. It’s covered in the words of a heartbroken boy who doesn’t exist anymore, and hidden by a man who doesn’t know who he is. There’s a letter somewhere, and it’s never getting sent. 

There’s no one to send it to.

~

“there are words i wanted to say

i love you guys. please come back. i miss you. 

i don’t know if i should start out a letter like that but... it’s not like you’ll read it, so.. this is for me.

it wasn’t just singing to me. what we did? it was more than that.

it was the way luke always hyped us up, even when he was having a hard time (i don’t know i ever told you how much it meant, that you let us see you hurting after you left home). you made me feel like you always had my back, whether it be to keep me in line or to keep my sprits up.

it was the way you always had a smile, reggie. i know we teased you a lot (for good reason, i mean, you tried fixing an amp in the RAIN-) but sometimes i think you were the most emotionally intelligent of all of us. Granted, we are were a bunch of teenage boys, so that’s not the hardest thing to be the best at but... it was always nice to be able to smile (even if your jokes WERE badly timed)

and alex... it was the way you mothered us, even if you refuse to think of yourself as the mom friend (you literally made sure we drank enough water during the summer practices??) you’re sarcastic and think you’re all mean but you care a lot. you’ve always cared a lot.

you guys were my family. my home.

i’m sorry for not saying it when i had the chance.

i’m sorry for not dying with you.

i’m sorry for

~bobby wilson”

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

“I still would have followed you”

because he would. because that’s what he’d always done, he followed.

because when he was nine he was caught trying to use his mom’s mascara and afterwards he was too scared to even go in their room. because going in their meant breaking the rules and breaking the rules meant yelling and discipline and disappointment. he’s nine years old and he follows the rules

because when he was thirteen he was in a group project and spoke up because he had ideas and he knew the subject and he was just so excited because these were the kids that he wanted to be friends with, that he wanted to be liked by. but there’s side-eyes and hidden disgust and maybe they don’t physically hurt him but it’s like a knife in his gut. he doesn’t try to add anymore. he’s thirteen and he follows along, nodding when he’s expected to but never adding his own thoughts.

because when he was fifteen he came out and suddenly his father wasn’t just mad, he was angry. and his mom stopped standing up for him. until one last night where she breaks too, and his dad is angry and his mom is disappointed and she needs to clear her head. except when she goes out driving she doesn’t come back. she doesn’t come back and alex can’t even say sorry for not being enough. he’s fifteen years old and he follows the people he loves after they fight, because one day he didn’t and they didn’t come back.

because he’s sixteen and he’s finally feeling like he has a family again and he’s got music and he wants to let himself be open but he thinks of the rules, and he thinks of trying to speak out, and he thinks about his mom never coming back. never looking at him with those soft eyes that tell him he’s loved. he’s sixteen and he follows the lead of his band, and that’s okay, he doesn’t need his own rhythm as long as he’s part of their song.

because he’s seventeen and his stomach is churning and he’s sweaty and freezing and it hurts it hurts it HURTS, but beside him are Reggie and Luke and he think about them lying alone, in pain and fear, and he decides that following isn’t so bad if it means they weren’t alone for this, and it’s not so bad if it means dying by the people he loves  he’s seventeen and he follows his best friends into a black room and the only time he tries to hesitate is when he remembers one of them’s not there

he’s seventeen and ageless and dead and 42 and he’s a kid and he’s followed things all his life

so when he looks into the eyes of this boy, this boy who would do anything for Alex, was there ever really a question?

“I still would have followed you”

because that’s what Alex does

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

(i’m obsessed with your tags:  #but imagine the guilt either way #because even if he hadn’t have died - say he was a vegetarian and wouldn’t have had the street dogs #it’s a painful death #he knows it’s a painful death #but they were all in pain #no one was there to hold their hand and tell them to hang on or shout for help faster #no one was there to brush reggies hair out of his face #to reassure alex - despite it being meaningless - that it was here and they would be okay #to tell luke that he would get their music out and that luke would do it himself one day #no one was there to tell the ambulance what happened #maybe that extra second where they had to work it out would’ve been saved #maybe his boys would still be here #or maybe he’s not a vegetarian #maybe he desperately wishes he’d have gone with them #a clean swoop #all of them gone #their family #at least they’d be together)

(i wrote a full thing in the tags but tumblr is a fucky wucky and deleted it so-)

it’s my personal hc that he was there when they died. he’d stayed and flirted for a little bit with rose, but in the end it was the night they were going to make it big and what kind of dick would he be if he didn’t spend it with his bandmates? so he heads out with a wink and a ‘gotta make sure they stay outa any trouble’ because as snarky as he is with them he still cares. 

and he walks outside with a bounce in his step and it’s half anxious, half excited energy that’s pumping in his veins and he smiles to himself. he smiles because he was just talking to a pretty girl and tonight’s the NIGHT. he’s smiling and how could anything go wrong? how could it when they’re on the edge of everything they’ve ever wanted?

so he heads to the vendor he knows the boys went to and nods at him when he gets the direction they went, and he’s slowly getting more excited and it runs like a chant in his head ‘tonights the night, tonights the night, tonights-’

and then he sees them and there’s luke, his eyes wide with fear and pain. and reggie’s beside him and he’s whimpering and breathing wrong, all wrong, and alex is clutching at his stomach with silent tears coming down his face and it’s WRONG. their faces are too pale and they’re drenched in sweat and bobby sprints to them because this isn’t right they aren’t okay this isn’t-

and he’s kneeling beside them and holding alex’s hand tightly in his own, and he’s brushing reggie’s limp hair from his face. he shakes luke gently and his heart is beating so fast and reggie’s whimpering and luke is scared and alex is crying-

he holds their hands and he screams for help and he’s frantically trying to figure out what’s wrong and his heart is pounding and they’re not okay. they’re not okay. he screams again and again but no one’s coming and he finally goes quiet when he sees one of their eyelids start to droop.

they don’t deserve this. they don’t deserve to go out to the sound of their screaming friend. so he tugs them closer and they groan and cry out and then finally he’s sitting and holding them as tightly as he can and reggie whimpers and curls into his chest and yeah, it feels like a knife in his gut but bobby hugs back because how could he not? and luke leans against him and his voice is so broken and weak but he says ‘we were gonna be great’ and bobby is crying but he nods and says yeah, and then he’s grabbing alex’s hand because he can’t let them go

he can’t let his best friends die but here he is, and here they are, and alex looks at him and it’s clear in his face that he’d be in a complete panic attack if his body had the energy, but as it is it doesn’t and his breathing is rough and erratic but he still manages to tell bobby he’ll be okay. but how can he say that?? how can he say bobby will be okay when his whole world is falling down around him? how can he say he’ll be okay when bobby knows reggie has stopped whimpering but he can’t focus on that because he can’t know if he’s stopped breathing completely.

how can he say that when bobby is watching his best friends DIE as he holds them as tight as he possibly can???

but bobby nods and he’s crying so fucking hard but he nods and he grips alex’s hand and he tells luke  that their music will still make it, that luke’s music will change the world, but luke isn’t responding. 

luke isn’t responding and HOW CAN ALEX SAY BOBBY WILL BE OKAY WHEN REGGIE ISN’T WHIMPERING ANYMORE AND LUKE ISN’T RESPONDING AND BOBBY IS WATCHING HIS ENTIRE LIFE DIE??

but then alex’s hand starts slipping and bobby knows it doesn’t matter so he pulls them even closer and cries.

and then he’s left holding the bodies of the three boys he loved most, sobs wracking his body and sirens echoing in his ears.

did we establish whether bobby was actually a vegetarian?

because i don’t know which is worse: him knowing that if he’d have gone with them, he would’ve died too. or that he would’ve been by their sides to watch them die.

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

“You guys know I love you, right?”

Alex’s voice was small, a mix of exhausted and worn, body aching from the panic attack he had had, lungs still settling into a slower rhythm. Reggie hummed, the noise muffled from where his face was buried into Alex’s stomach, arms wrapped around him like he was something that might pull away in the wind. Beside him, Luke gave a small nod and a sad smile, one leg flung over his lap and his hands playing with one of Alex’s.

“Yeah ‘Lex, we know. We love you too.”

Bobby’s voice murmured an agreement, and even though he didn’t have the physical reassurance of his touch (the way Reggie had sprawled across the couch and the three other people on it had kept his boyfriend from pressing up against Alex too), Alex knew he was sincere.

Another body on the news for the crime of loving someone, another panic attack and reminder of the family he lost when he came out, and yet, the world turned on. His world, and the family he had made for himself. The family that would never turn him away or tell him he didn’t belong, wasn’t worthy.

He gave a shaky breath and let himself relax, one hand reaching out to take hold of Bobby’s own outstretched hand. And if the other clutched too tightly to Luke’s hand, and if he pulled even closer to Reggie, well, who could fault him?

Sometimes the love you make for yourself with the family you choose is better than the pain of the family you’re born into. Sometimes the only love you need is four boys in an old garage, clinging desperately to their dreams and each other, hoping for a better tomorrow.

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

touch-averse bobby headcanons!!

basically a part 2 to this post about alex being touch-averse :3

he honestly can’t remember when it started getting really worse, but bobby has always had a problem with touch. it’s high on the list, with the texture of sand and the sound of chalk. it was just,,,, one of his Things.

and he doesn’t mean to, but whenever someone hugs him it makes his stomach twist and his breathing go panicky, and he doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t, but he lashes out when it gets too much. he gets too stiff and he pushes whoever the offending party is away, and the rest of the day his shoulders curl in and he’s tense

he doesn’t remember if there’s a reason for it

and he tries to make friends, but sometimes even a handshake or a high-five will make him feel queasy, set his teeth on edge, have his muscles tight for a long time after

after awhile it’s easier to be alone than try to work around a friendship without touching, or making someone offended when he pulls away and clams up at the smallest touch. it’s easier and it hurts less

(even though it still does hurt)

so when he meets alex, it’s like breathing again after being stifled

alex is quiet and standoffish, and he’s more sarcastic than soft when he does speak up, but bobby doesn’t mind. he’s that way too sometimes, especially on the days when every sound is too much too much and his shirts feel all wrong and he’s still expected to ‘be normal’

so he makes himself make a friend again. and he tries to be careful and let alex know he’s not gonna say the wrong thing and get pushed away, and in turn alex is willing to sit next to him quietly, a few inches apart so they both have each other’s presence without worrying about being uncomfortable.

and then reggie and luke come along; he doesn’t know who came first to be honest, luke with his puppy-eyes and vibrant grin, or reggie with his sweet smile and funny (if often mistimed) jokes. either way they come barreling into his life, disrupting everything with their touchy-hands and words when silence is better

he’s mad at himself for how many times he shuts down or walks away when luke gets too loud or reggie slaps his back, because he wants to like these people, but he CAN’T, and he can’t be the friend he wants to be and why can’t it just be him and alex again, a few inches and years of understanding between them??

but... then they stay

and not only do they stay, but.... they get a little bit better

it starts with reggie, and bobby might tease him about being oblivious, but he starts getting quieter when he sees bobby starting to tense up, and bobby thinks of the night when they had all stayed out late and reggie admitted that sometimes he’d sneak out at night to escape his parents yelling. bobby makes sure to give a grateful smile to him next time it happens

and then luke is doing it to, less fist-bumps and grabbing of shoulders, instead he’s bobbing his head when he’s extra proud and hyped, trading his physical gestures for more compliments, not like he lacked in them before

and bobby thinks this might be okay, these boys with their quieter words and still-wide smiles, trading their rough hands for bright words, for bobby, for alex.

and slowly bobby gets to the point where it’s okay, the small touches

he still likes to know when it’s coming, and sometimes the days are bad and he can barely stand the weight of the shirt on his skin, the rub of his jeans, let alone the heavy hand of a person, but some days...

some days it’s not just tolerable to feel someone’s hand in his own, it’s NICE. it’s nice to link pinkies with reggie and let luke ruffle his hair, and it’s NICE when he’s bumping shoulders with alex, smiles splitting wide across their faces like the sun through a cloudy sky

hugs are still hard, too much and too trapped and heavy heavy heavy, sick to his stomach and shoulders tight, curling into himself

but some days...

the days when he can hug them and it feels alright?

those are the days he could cry from happiness

(and even when he can’t, it’s okay. it’s okay because reggie will smile, and he’s learned to like the silence. it’s okay because luke will look fondly at him and say “you’re incredible bobby” because God knows luke’s love language is words of affirmation and he tries to show the boys he loves them and loves them and loves them. and it’s okay, because alex still sits by him, and the quiet and the space between them is still good. still theirs)

(he doesn’t need to be hugged by them to know he’s loved abundantly, and he’s so so happy to realize that he doesn’t need to hug them for them to realize he loves them back)

it’s a shame the last time he holds them is all shaking limbs and eyes blurry with tears and too much, too much, sirens in his ears and red and blue and screaming and he’s hugging his boys one last time, one last time because he might not need it to know he loves them, but they deserve a pair of arms to hold them when they can’t breathe anymore, they deserve a boy who stayed with them, but since he didn’t stay they deserve a boy who will hold them until it doesn’t matter anymore. until the only one it can matter to is himself. until he’s clutching empty promises and empty hope and empty love where there used to be his friends

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

And Though I can’t Recall Your Face (I’ve still got love for you)

for @julie-and-the-himbo-ghosts, happy willex week gift exchange day!! I hope you enjoy a little bit of angsty amnesia in your fics :))

AO3 LINK <3

Warnings: swearing, nightmares, trauma related to dying, descriptions of dry-heaving during one scene (at the end of the large scene in italics)

( taglist, just ask to be added or removed: @barrel-of-cat-mituna @completekeefitztrash @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @lemontarto @hershis-kotlc @genesiscaveat @everything-else-and-mars @juline-dizznee @chaotic-basics @an-absolute-travesty @classyfunnyquotesmuffin7 @iamstealingyourgenderaswespeak @itstiger720 @introvertedscarecrow @sunset-telepath @an-idiot-in-a-trenchcoat @cowboypossume @anaccidentwaitingtohappen @sofia-not-sophie @fire-sapphics @dr-alan-grant @real-smooth @juline-dizznee)

There’s an exhaustion that comes after being deliriously happy. Granted, it can also happen when you go through a physically and an emotionally straining day, where you start dying for a second time, get magically forced into playing for an evil ghost magician, and then go on to play the greatest gig you’ve ever done, before finally getting saved from near second-death by the power of love and one badass girl, which of course also causes delirious happiness, but that’s besides the point.

That night after the Orpheum, the boys were exhausted. They were exhausted and that was why Alex didn’t get the chance to even try to check on Willie, and that was why they didn’t wake up until noon the next day, and that was the reason Julie and the boys tried to use to convince Alex it wasn’t his fault, when Willie didn’t show up that day, that week, the rest of that month. When they searched for weeks and couldn’t find him. When they tore the city apart looking for him.

They were exhausted, they reasoned, it wasn’t his fault.

They were exhausted.

~~

Willie didn’t like the dark room. Of course, there wasn’t much to compare it to, but as a general thing he didn’t really like it. It was a little too close, a little too easy to re-live (re-die?) that moment on the road, headlights blinding and brakes screeching and-

Anyways. Willie might not have been able to remember exactly how he got there, or why he felt ages older than the moment he died, but the dark room was not his idea of an ideal place to stay. 

He groaned and lay flat on his back, arms and legs sprawled out, skateboard at his feet, and stared into the inkiness.

The room wasn’t that bad. It was dark, yeah, and the air felt thick, and sometimes Willie felt like his heart was beating so loud that it sounded like someone pounding at the walls, but it wasn’t the room that made him tense, made him feel like his lungs were filling with smog, caused his heart to beat so fast and loud.

It wasn’t the room, it was the way it was too easy to remember, and yet, also too easy to feel like he was missing something. An important thing, right outside of his reach, always one shadow away in the dark room that was too small for his body and too big for his imagination.

It was never the room that did it. It was the fact that he was trapped with his own thoughts and no way out.

He closed his eyes again.

~~

“C’mon man, you can’t just blame yourself for this! For all we know Willie is fine, or Caleb was planning something all along!! Please Alex, there’s no way you can blame yourself about this dude. It’s not your fault.”

Alex shook his head and turned away, scoffing beneath his breath like it might help him ignore the ever-rising panic in his chest or the lump in his throat. He appreciated Luke trying to help him out but... Alex had always been good at guilt.

He dragged a hand over his face, other hand clutching at the strap of his fanny pack like a lifeline, glad the white-knuckle grip betraying his anxiety was hidden from his friends. He didn’t need to be worrying them.

“Look,” he tried, turning back to face the concerned faces of Luke and Reggie, “I know, okay? I know it’s not really my fault, but it still feels like it is. If I never met Willie, we wouldn’t have met Caleb and gotten branded with his stupid seal, and if we hadn’t gotten branded then Willie wouldn’t have tried to help and Caleb wouldn’t have gotten him in trouble, or whatever he’s done to him. 

“So yeah, I get that it’s not my fault, but it still IS, okay?”

Alex just... he wanted to scream out his frustration. Wanted to scream until the anxious beating in his heart steadied out and he stopped being so tense. He wanted Willie back. Alex clenched his jaw as he felt his eyes begin to sting and swallowed hard.

“I’m just... I’m gonna go out for a bit, clear my head. I’ll be back.”

Luke and Reggie both looked like they wanted to say something, but they knew him well enough to just nod.

“Stay safe ‘Lex.” Reggie said, and Alex gave a half-smile. That was Reggie; Always loving big and soft, even if he couldn’t help.

“Yeah, okay Reg.” He nodded, and then he was gone.

~~

The museum was empty when he got there. Just like every other time he’d been searching and couldn’t find Willie. Just like every other time he was one breath away from a panic attack or a breakdown and he went there to scream, trying to imagine Willie grabbing his shirt and pulling him up, his hand over his own, his smile, his-

Empty.

Alex sighed and slumped down, back pressed again the cement pillar, and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep on the edge like this, always a moment away from a panic attack, breathing enough to avoid most of them, but dancing around the outskirts of them, waiting for the moment he missed a step or tripped over his own feet and have it all come sweeping back.

He just wanted Willie back.

He scrubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hand and let his head fall backwards with a thump, not bothering to wince when it hit the cool cement. His tense energy slowly drooped away, leaving only the tightness and ache in his muscles. Alex didn’t even have the energy to cry.

There was a clatter and then he was jolting up, eyes flying open, heart pounding and hands out in front of him. What the- ?

“Well, shit. Wasn’t expecting that landing.”

And then Alex was striding forward and his hands were shaking and-

“Oh hey, I’m Willie! Do you uh, do you know what��s going on? The dark room was-” He stopped abruptly and smiled sheepishly, his brown eyes so warm and familiar, Alex wanted to cry again.

“I didn’t even let you get a word in edgewise, sorry. What’s your name?”

It was Willie. It was his Willie, except there was no recognition in his curious smile, and his hands weren’t reaching for Alex’s and Alex wanted more than anything to hug this stranger wearing Willie’s face.

“Willie...” His throat was dry and he cleared his throat. “I’m uh, I’m Alex.” He did an awkward little wave, like it wasn’t the boy he had fallen in love with who was in front of him, like they hadn’t held hands in this exact room, like they hadn’t even met before. 

“Alex. Nice!” And it was Willie’s voice saying his name but it felt wrong, all wrong and suddenly Alex wished he was gone because dammit Alex really needed to scream in a museum again because this Willie wasn’t his, and for all Alex knew he was never getting him back.

“Yeah! Ha... You uh, you were wondering what’s going on? What exactly... what do you want to know?”

“Yeah man! It’s just weird because like, I was skating and then, well that happened-” Willie tapped on his helmet and Alex noticed a large crack in it, “and then there was that dark room, and then when I tried skateboarding again -seventh time, all the others ended with me on my ass- I ended up here. Which, don’t get me wrong! Is great!! I mean, you’re here and you’re-” He flushed and his voice died out as he gestured vaguely.

“I just don’t really know what’s going on, so... I guess anything? Like, I know I’m dead, but does that make you dead? And I can tell it’s been at least a day, because the sun is setting, and when I got hit it was already night, so there’s that. I don’t know, man, I’m just curious how this works.”

It was ironic, Alex decided. Bitter bitter irony.

Because there Willie was, chewing in his lip, his hands playing with his rings and his eyes so honest it hurt to look into them. It was just like when they had first met, except this time it was Alex answering Willie’s questions, and he was close enough to pull into a hug, a hug that Alex desperately wanted, but he couldn’t.

Because this wasn’t his Willie.

“Yeah, uh, no problem Willie. I can tell you what I know.”

His voice felt empty.

~~

The days passed and Alex promised himself he would be fine. He promised because he had to be fine, otherwise he’d break and he didn’t know if he could come back from that.

Every time he saw Willie smile-

And he smiled so fucking often; At Reggie, at Luke, at Julie, and Alex. Willie smiled at Alex and it made him want to kiss him and fall apart at the same time.

There was no escaping it either. As soon as Alex realized that Willie had basically been reset to the time he died, he was done for. Of course he offered to let him stay with them, and of course Willie had accepted with that grin that made Alex’s heart squeeze in a vice of bittersweet.

When Alex came back to the garage, Willie smiling brightly by his side and offering Reggie and Luke a wave and quick introduction, the boys had managed not to accuse Willie of anything or ask questions that Willie wouldn’t have the answer to, and as soon as he had the chance he had pulled them aside and explained that Willie didn’t remember.

(And if his voice caught in his throat, and he tripped over Willie’s name... Well, they didn’t mention it. They understood.)

After that, the boys had quickly welcomed Willie in, teasing grins and answering any questions Willie might have about the afterlife (Alex did his best not to think about the fact that Willie had been the one to teach them all those things before). Willie... Willie fit like a puzzle piece in their little group, and Alex found himself wondering if this is what it would have been like if things had been different before.

Without Caleb’s club and control, without the seals and jolts.

Alex wondered if he was always destined to fall in love with Willie.

Even Julie loved him, once she met him. It was like watching two stars collide, when they met. Julie with her slight reservation, and then the welcoming fondness that poured out like a wave, and Willie, his warm voice and genuine heart. 

It just hurt a little bit, because Alex didn’t know how to act around this Willie. It hurt because he’d never had to worry about himself around Willie before; He had simply been free to be himself, anxious gay mess and everything. Sarcastic and protective and free. And now every second around him felt like he was constantly checking himself, keeping him from asking Willie what went wrong, what happened, begging him to come back to Alex.

Begging him to tell him if he still meant those words that had shaken Alex’s whole world.

“I would do anything for you.”

Because if that Willie was gone, it meant those feelings were too.

Alex was fine. Really, he was.

It just hurt.

~~

It had taken all of two seconds for Willie to decide that he liked Julie and the Phantoms a LOT better than the dark room. When he had tried skateboarding around one more time, he hadn’t expected to get out of the room, and especially not to land in front of a cute as fuck guy. But he had, and it was so much better than he ever could have imagined.

And then it turned out that not only was the guy cute, but he was sweet and awkward and kind, and Willie was falling head over heels faster than he had learned how to do a kickflip with that Mullen kid down the street.

He was completely and utterly gone on this anxious boy with a sad smile and a sharp tongue with the people he loved, and Willie found himself wanting to make him to smile more. More and more till it felt like the sun had found it’s place on the corners of his lips, and yeah, it was cheesy as hell, but Willie liked treating himself to the small things, and that included being cheesy when the time called for it.

And looking at the way Alex’s hair moved to hang in front of his face when he got into the music, the way his cheeks grew rosy and the way he’d stick his tongue out slightly when he focused... Yeah, the time definitely called for it most of the time.

In fact, between being head-over-heels for Alex, and the way his friends had immediately adopted him into their group, it was almost too easy to forget the dark room.

Almost.

The first nightmare happened a few weeks after meeting Julie for the first time, and Willie woke with a gasping breath and a racing heart. His skin was clammy and he laid stock-still for a few minutes, trying to even his rough breathing, trying to keep from crying out, even though he couldn’t even remember why he about to cry in the first place.

He slipped off of the couch he had begun to call home, and poofed into the Molina’s house, trying not to disturb the three boys tangled unceremoniously in the loft.

(They had been given their own places to sleep, but there was a certain gravity to them that always seemed to draw them back together, lost in the orbit of each other. Willie thought he was slowly being drawn in too, a wandering planet finding his home in their solar system, and normally he’d smile at the thought, but tonight he just looked at them for a long moment, a swirl of unidentifiable emotions churning in his chest. Guilt, regret, wistfulness, love, pain.)

“Julie?” He whispered against the doorframe, and clenched his jaw against the jab of guilt that nestled right beneath his ribs, the fading memory of his nightmare buzzing angrily, like a bee that had done its job and stung its victim, and was waiting to die.

“Julie, are you awake?”

The door opened and Julie’s concerned face peered out, “Willie? Did you remember somethi- I mean, ah! Are you... okay?”

Willie was too disturbed to notice her stumbling words, and he slumped into her waiting hug.

“I don’t know. I just... I had a nightmare and didn’t want to wake the boys, y’know?” Julie nodded and gave a sad smile, gently pulling him onto her bed.

“It’s okay, you wanna talk about it, or just need somebody to be with?” She held out her arms again and he gave a grateful, if a bit watery, smile before giving a shaky sigh and resting up against her. She began running her fingers through his hair and he almost closed his eyes to appreciate it.

That is, until he remembered the last time he closed his eyes.

“I don’t know yet.” A hum of understanding.

“When my mom died, I had nightmares.” Julie’s voice was soft, soft as the warm light of a streetlamp on midnight pavement, soft as summer air right at sunset. Willie breathed.

“At first I didn’t even realize why they scared me so much. It was just a simple scene-” She paused when her fingers caught in a small snarl and Julie was suddenly overwhelmingly grateful that she could touch the boys, including Willie, because of the casual comfort she could provide them, the small touches of reassurance she could give.

“It was me and my mom, in the studio. We must have been writing a song or something, and she was humming to me. And she would just hum; She never stopped. I would ask a question or suggest a lyric, and she’d just smile and hum, never stopping. A smile and a hum.”

Julie’s voice was barely a murmur now, and Willie let the silence settle around him like a weighted blanket. 

“It took me a while to realize that the reason it terrified me was because I was afraid to forget her voice. Sometimes I still worry about that; That one day I’ll wake up and all that’s left will be her smile and her voice humming to me.

“Anyways,” She cleared her throat, “You don’t need to tell yours if you don’t want to, or can’t. But... I’m here, okay?”

Willie nodded and whispered out a quiet ‘thank you’.

Yeah, he liked Julie and the boys a lot better than the dark room.

~~

“-just think that’s ridiculous! I bet that doing that would almost hurt as bad as dying via tainted hot dogs.”

Luke and Reggie were having a very heated discussion, and Willie, Julie, and Alex looked on fondly, sometimes giving a little bit of input.

“Hot dogs?” Willie raised an eyebrow and laughed, “That’s how you died?”

There were various grumbles from the wounded parties and a loud agreement from Julie.

“That’s what I was saying!!”

He laughed again and turned to make eye-contact with Alex, “You’ve been holding out on me Hot Dog!! I could have been using that as a nickname this whole-”

Alex’s face was stricken and Willie stopped abruptly. What did he say wrong?

“Sorry, I’ve got to- I just- I’m going out for a second.” And then Alex was clutching the strap of his fanny pack and poofing out. Luke looked uncomfortable and Julie was very pointedly not making eye-contact.

“Well!” Reggie said, seemingly oblivious to the drop in mood, “Who knew ‘Lex wasn’t a fan of food pet names, am I right?” Willie tried for a smile.

“Ha, yeah... I guess.”

Julie nudged him with her foot.

“Don’t worry. It’s not... it’s not your fault Willie. Alex is just... dealing with things right now.”

“Yeah... okay. Thanks Jules.”

The nightmare that came that night didn’t leave with the morning, and Willie was woken by a panicked Alex, his worried face inches above Willie’s own, his golden hair hanging into his eyes. Willie didn’t even think, he just grabbed Alex’s shirt and pulled him into a tight hug, like maybe that would fix the words echoing in his mind, like that would stop the haunting pain in his chest, heal the missing wound on his head.

“You didn’t have a choice-”

“I knew what he was capable of-”

Alex hugged him back.

“It’s just- it’s just a nightmare, I’m okay. I just- You were hurt and, and then you- and it was my fault-”

“Oh Willie...” Alex’s arms felt like home, felt like goodbye and forever and a welcome back and regret regret regret. “I’m safe. I’m okay and it wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to okay? It’s not your fault, I promise.”

Later Willie would wonder why Alex comforted him like that, those words filled with forgiveness for something that only happened in a dream -because that’s all it was right, a dream?- and that expression that made Willie’s heart twist in knots, but for that moment he just let Alex hold him.

Hold him like he wouldn’t have to let go.

“I’m so sorry Alex,” Willie mumbled into his shoulder, and it scared him that he didn’t know what he was apologizing for.

“It’s not your fault,” Alex promised, but his voice was full of a certain kind of grief, and Willie didn’t know if he quite believed that.

“It wasn’t ever your fault.”

~~

It goes along like that for a few more weeks, and each nightmare bring Willie closer to the brink of something, he just can’t figure out what. It’s like every time he closes his eyes, an entire story plays out before him.

And every story, he’s the villain.

“That’s not good enough!” And Willie doesn’t like the pain in Alex’s eyes. Doesn’t like that he’s the one that put it there, but every dream the story stays the same. He messes up and he hurts Alex. He should have just left, he should have skated away. He should have-

“Well well well, William. I’d say I thought you knew better, but you always have been one for romance and all that nonsense. I guess it will be fun to see you try your hand at love when there’s no memories to work with and no one there to love you back.” His eyes are cold cold cold, and Willie never liked that dark room, and now he was going back and he would do the same thing all over again to help the boys but he REALLY didn’t like that room and now he was-

It’s sad, how Willie got used to being woken up by one member of the band or another, his jaw clenched and heart pounding, and it’s always their faces that leer at him from his dreams. He swallowed down guilt like orange juice for breakfast each time he looked them in the eyes.

All he was missing was the reason he felt so fucking guilty all the time.

~~

The pavement is wet, and Willie likes the way the different coloured traffic lights reflect on it’s surface, likes the way the air is cool and muggy, and even though he’s sweaty he doesn’t mind, the breeze is cool against his face and puffing at his hair.

Nights like these make him feel like he can fly.

Willie doesn’t know what it is that keeps him up for hours after he gets in bed, but taking his skateboard out for a little bit normally helps, so that’s what he does. That’s what has him out tonight, his head exhausted but his mind going a mile a minute.

He pauses for a moment at an intersection and closes his eyes as he inhales the smell of the night. It’s so calm. He gives a half-smile to the sky and then glances across the street, already pushing himself forward on his skateboard. He stops short when he catches a glimpse of a piece of bright purple fabric and furrows his brow. What’s that from?

The world is getting lighter and Willie is more confused; It’s eleven at night, why is-?

He should have payed attention. He should have payed attention he should have payed attention he should have-

The world is upside-down and inside-out and the lights reflecting on the pavement might be pretty, but it smells like oil and it tastes like blood and everything feels piercing white and Willie doesn’t like that crunching noise, or the anguished whine, but he can’t tell where it’s coming from and he can’t tell whoever it is to stop stop STOP.

He’s trying to roll over -when did he get on the ground?- but when he tries the piercing white feels sickeningly like a streaky grey with too many pinpricks of light, and since he doesn’t like that feeling he stops. 

The whine continues, and morphs into gasping and crying and for some reason Willie’s chest sounds gurgly, and his arms are twisted kinda funny and Willie can’t quite make out why he’s feeling in colours except for the fact that now he’s very much feeling an oil-spill black, and that feels like pain pain pain.

There’s a liquid in his mouth and when he coughs it out the gasping and groaning person makes the same noises, and when he stops, they stop. And then he tries coughing again but it hurts and he can’t quite open his eyes anymore, but now he knows it’s him crying and whimpering, and his lungs don’t feel right and he’s trying to see but something is staining everything red, and it’s not the traffic light anymore.

Willie cries out weakly, but his chest rattles again and the air is too thick, too thick to breathe in and too thick to see through and everything feels blood red-

“Willie, please wake up!” Willie stumbled off the couch, past the body shaking him awake, past the stand of instruments, past past past, and collapsed into the bathroom, dry-heaving and gagging with snotty-tears slipping down his face as he hacked and spit saliva and bile into the porcelain bowl, body trembling. When the heaving finally stopped, he slumped limply against the toilet, resting his forehead against the coolness it offered him.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled thickly to the person in the doorway. Sorry sorry sorry.

“It’s okay,” Alex whispered back, and then Willie was being pulled against Alex’s chest, was being held in arms that felt like a stranger’s home. They belonged to someone, but they just didn’t seem to belong to him.

“Man, dreams huh?” Willie’s joke was weak and he knew it, but he was tired and he was tired of the nightmares that seemed more like memories, and the nightmares that were memories, and he just- He didn’t want to deal with that right now.

“I’d give anything to trade my dreams for a good old scream session with you in that museum. That was just so much nicer.” Willie yawned, which triggered another gag, but he shook it off and then leaned back into Alex’s chest.

“You uh, remember that?”

What sort of question-?

“Uh, yeah man? Of course I do? That was the day that I...” He stopped. “But if that day was the first, then what...?” He pulled away from Alex so that he could turn and face him.

“Alex?”

Alex, who was anxious and kind, who he taught about being a- No, who taught him to be a ghost. Who taught... 

“Lifers are what we call people who are still alive.”

Except Alex had told him that, one day while they were on a walk. But Willie taught Alex that, so that meant...

Willie groaned and clutched his head.

“- when there’s no memories to work with.”

no memories.

no memories.

no-

“Willie,” Alex’s face was as careful as his voice, and Willie tried to focus his whirling mind, “Willie, what do you know about a man named Caleb?”

Caleb.

Caleb taking Willie under his wing and showing him the ropes and how to be a ghost. He smiles sometimes and Willie doesn’t know whether to be proud or scared that he managed to make Caleb happy.

Caleb and Willie in the dark room and Willie’s shaking his hand and there’s a seal, and Willie promises he’ll listen better, he forgot, he didn’t mean to disobey. The dark room doesn’t care.

Caleb and he’s letting Willie skateboard again, and Willie couldn’t be more grateful. When he gets back, Caleb has another job for him, but Willie doesn’t mind. Willie can’t mind.

Caleb. But this time he’s telling Willie the boys don’t matter, telling him that he has to do what he has to do. Caleb, but this time he’s not taking Willie’s freedom; he’s hurting Willie’s friends.

Caleb.

“Alex?” Willie’s voice cracked, “Alex, how did you forgive me?”

And then Alex’s face crumpled into something between relief and sadness, and he pulled Willie into the tightest hug of his Afterlife.

“Because it was never your fault, because I still wanted to follow you, no matter where you went. Because I care for you. We’ll figure this out, I promise. ”

And yeah, he was rambling, but all Willie could think about was his own words, echoing out of Alex’s mouth. He thought about the way he meant it, and how Alex means it now, and it finally hit him.

He buried his face into Alex’s neck and held on as tight as he could.

“I love you too,” He murmured. 

“I love you too.”

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

alex, young alex and he already knows the thundering feeling of his heart and the squeeze of his chest and the way his hands get clammy when it’s really bad. and he already hates the voice of the pastor at his church, grinding and sliding like well-intentioned venom over the words “homosexual” and “perverted” but he’s young and he can’t slide down any further in the pew without his mom nudging him up again. and he’s clutching at the small cross on the edge of it’s chain and he’s wondering if God will listen if he tries to apologize for being this way, if he begs enough for forgiveness, or if He’s already written him off.

young little alex and his heart is beating faster than his drums ever have and he can’t breathe can’t breathe and the words burn him but it’s not refining him like they mean it to, like it should, it just burns burns burns.

and then it’s his parents’ words, and he didn’t mean to let his parents down and if it was a choice to be this way he didn’t know that, but if he could he wouldn’t choose it because nothing would ever be worth the boom boom boom of his heart and his parents words against him

and his father says “disgusting” and his hands say ‘angry’, and his mom cries “disappointed” and her eyes say ‘afraid’. and alex, little alex wishes he could take back whatever it was that made him this way.

alex. alex and now he’s older and it still hurts and it still burns and he’s still waiting for the refinement to come from the fire, but he’s older and now he covers it with a biting tongue and a grave face.

because he’s older and he knows now that sharp words mean people won’t poke and their words won’t burn (not like his pastor’s, not like his parents’) and he knows that if he doesn’t smile then people won’t see the sadness in it.

because he’s older and he’s learned to turn the boom boom boom of his panicked heart and the loud loud loud of his father’s anger and his mother’s disappointment into the beating of his drums

and alex is older and his music is louder than his own thundering heart, and he’s learned to keep his words sharp and pointed outwards, but at night he still clutches the tiny metal cross in his hand, even though he took it off it’s chain ages ago, and at night he still prays for his parents’ love, for God’s love

alex is older and his hands are beating every “worthless” “perverted” “disappointed” into his drums, because he might not be the little boy in the pew, sliding down skin burning from words that can never refine something that isn’t even a sin from him, but he’s alex and he’s older and he’s still hurting hurting hurting

~~

based on this post about reggie by @never-straight-no and at the (kind of) request of @evashmz for alex angst <3

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

based off of this post by @ificouldtakeusback

AO3 link

Warnings: death and grief, bee mention

Summary: Bobby deals with losing Sunset Curve <3

Writing taglist (ask to be added or removed):  @barrel-of-cat-mituna @completekeefitztrash @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @lemontarto @hershis-kotlc @genesiscaveat @everything-else-and-mars @juline-dizznee @chaotic-basics @an-absolute-travesty @classyfunnyquotesmuffin7 @smolanxiouscatvoids @itstiger720 @introvertedscarecrow @sunset-telepath @an-idiot-in-a-trenchcoat @cowboypossume @anaccidentwaitingtohappen @sofia-not-sophie @fire-sapphics @dr-alan-grant @real-smooth @juline-dizznee

“There’s a grief that can’t be spoken     There’s a pain goes on and on      Empty chairs at empty tables  Now my friends are dead and gone”

~~

The morning arrived like a man condemned to death, slow-plodding and weighed down by guilt... by grief. The night before had been a swirl of energy; the energy of playing The Orpheum, the energy of being together, about to succeed, on the edge of everything they’d dreamed of. And then... the anxious energy and sick-to-the-stomach feeling of knowing something’s not right. A panicked rush to find his bandmates, his friends, because they were about to go on but they weren’t there, they weren’t there and something wasn’t right, something wasn’t-

Then came the sirens. The red and blue lights. The churning in his stomach became a cold stone.

But now Bobby sat alone, the morning sun streaming in like a memorial to the light in their eyes before it was snuffed out, and he didn’t have energy. He didn’t have the energy to feel anymore, he was exhausted.

He reached up to scrub at his face, wiping away tears that had long stopped falling, eyes dry and scratchy from crying until 3 a.m. and not sleeping at all. He wished he could sleep. He wished he could close his eyes and see something other than the bodies of his friends, something other than the way they had died in each others arms, wished he could think about anything other than the fact that he’d never hug them again or play music with them until his fingers bled and his throat was hoarse and his face sore from smiling.

He just sat. Alone. Exhausted.

The garage-made-studio was silent around him, and he longed to scream. Scream because he was never getting them back, scream because he was hurting, scream scream scream because the studio wasn’t meant to be quiet. It was meant to be filled with life and sound and four boys who loved each other in a way their ‘real’ families never would, playing music and goofing off and being together. It wasn’t meant for a single boy too tired to even cry anymore.

~~

“Here they talked of revolution   Here it was they lit the flame Here they sang about tomorrow    And tomorrow never came

   From the table in the corner  They could see a world reborn And they rose with voices ringing     And I can hear them now!”

~~

Bobby grabbed another box and shoved on top of one he had already stacked, angry tears burning behind his eyes. He hated this room and he hated this garage and he hated that he was alive and his friends were dead and he hated the fact that he was expected to be okay.

Because he wasn’t. He wasn’t okay and he had watched his friends take their last breaths and maybe if he was there sooner they would be alive, but it didn’t matter because they were gone and he wasn’t okay.

He grabbed another box and choked back a sob, anger and guilt and mourning caught and tangled in his chest like a swarm of bees swarming in his lungs until he felt suffocated and smothered. He tripped over a box and bit back a scream, choosing instead to kick at the box before falling to his knees. He couldn’t do this. He was just a kid, and he couldn’t do this.

The tears fell, hot and messy and his voice was choked and gasping, nose snotty and eyes red. Was it less than a week ago that the four of them had stood, side by side, in this very place? Singing and laughing together because they were doing it, they were finally making their place in the world! They were going to turn the music industry on its head and become something.

Bobby remembered how it had started; he and Reggie were the first to meet. They learned guitar together, they sung and played and thought ‘maybe this could be something’. And then Luke came with his voice and guitar and it was something. It was incredible and it was new and they found a place that could be their own and they claimed it for themselves, claimed it for who they were and who they were going to be. And then Alex... Alex with his anxious hands and killer drums came along and suddenly Bobby had a family again.

He remembered the late evenings of lukewarm pizza and song-writing challenges and four boys who were in love with music. It was freedom and it was flying and it was loving and being loved for who you were and not because you were what people wanted from you. It was four boys singing their hearts out. Singing their lives. Their hopes.

They had sung about their future, and now they didn’t even have one.

~~

“The very words that they had sung     Became their last communion         On this lonely barricade                     At dawn

Oh my friends, my friends forgive me      That I live and you are gone  There's a grief that can't be spoken     There's a pain goes on and on”

~~

Bobby thrashed, sweat dripping down his face and his eyes flew open, chest heaving and heart racing. He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, sighing when he realized he was too tightly wound to go back to sleep. Reluctantly, he got out of bed, tugging on a light sweatshirt and grabbing his guitar before slipping out of his room and heading out.

The night air was muggy and thick, but chilly enough that he was glad he remembered to put something on over his t-shirt. The walk to their... his studio was mostly quiet save for the rare passing of cars, and he let himself get lost in the way the stop-lights reflected in the water on the road, a broken and distorted portrayal of their mirror image. It’s like him, he thinks, and wishes he wasn’t a seventeen year-old boy who had to think of things in terms of ‘Before’ and ‘After’.

He finally got to the studio and slammed the door behind him. It wasn’t like he was going to be quiet when he practiced anyway.

The music started soft. Started gentle and intriguing, and then began to harden, to twist into something loud and broken. It was jagged and hurting and Bobby sang till his throat was dry, like maybe if he sang hard enough they would come back, like maybe if he ruined his voice he wouldn’t have to live with what his best friends had died for, like maybe the universe would bend its uncaring ear and hear him, hear his grief and anger and grant him some semblance of peace, something like an ending.

He played for hours, the pads of his fingers sore, his voice choked and strained from yelling the lyrics, but he kept on. He kept on because when he played it was like the ghosts of them stayed behind to listen.

Luke would be grinning from somewhere beside him, hands moving deftly over his own guitar, Reggie beside him getting flustered when Bobby winked and then playing an incredible riff despite it, and Alex behind them, his hands playing magic on his set, smile wide as he enjoyed the music. And Bobby. 

Bobby strumming and looking at his bandmates and maybe it hurt worse when it was all over, losing them again and again every time he stopped playing, but for that brief moment his friends were back and he wasn’t the lonely teenager in an empty garage with only a few boxes around him to remind him of what is was like to have a home in other people. For a brief moment he was ‘Bobbers’ and ‘Bobbins’ and he was winning a tickle fight with Reggie and getting his hair floofed by Luke, for a brief moment he stopped being ‘Bobby, the boy who lost his best friends and bandmates at age seventeen’ and was ‘Bobby, who was getting chided by Alex for putting his stuff everywhere’.

For a brief moment he wasn’t grieving the only people who really knew what it was like to love him.

~~

   “Phantom faces at the window    Phantom shadows on the floor     Empty chairs at empty tables Where my friends will meet no more

          Oh my friends, my friends Don't ask me what your sacrifice was for        Empty chairs at empty tables   Where my friends will sing no more”

~~

Bobby got older and changed his name. He didn’t want to be the boy that lost his friends, the boy left behind, so he became Trevor, a man who wasn’t brokenhearted. 

It didn’t stop him from being brokenhearted though.

He still saw them in everything, and it wasn’t fair. He’d go to the beach to stare at the water only to jerk his head around when he heard Reggie’s laughter. He’d go to a café but when he’d sit down he’d see Alex drumming his fingers on the table, waiting to order, hear Luke rambling excitedly about a new song he was working on.

The boys may have been dead, but he’d never escape their memory.

He could shove it down as hard as he could, but in the end he’d turn around a corner and catch a glimpse of Reggie walking by, he’d be in the grocery store and overhear Alex sassing Luke. It was a never-ending cycle of shock, hope, and then crushing sadness, because it was never them and it never would be.

The beach was always silent, and the chairs were always empty.

Bobby was alone.

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

hey guys,,,, thinking about making my tags vv into a fic,,, yea or nay?

(from this post by @bi-reginald that says:  “ im not ready to find out about willies backstory. he,,,,,,he had a family. what was it like when he died? were they close? had he told them he was gay? did he have any siblings or was it just him? “ )

#did they mourn him? was he their perfect son? #did they know he was queer before he died? did HE? #how long before his mother could drive again without thinking of what it must have felt like to slam on the breaks and then hear the thud #and feel the thump of hitting her boy #she wasn't even the one to do it but the guilt she feels might as well be the same #how long before his father could pass by the place he died without clenching his jaw and looking away. eye burning with unshed tears #his younger sister refuses to learn how to drive and his older brother just nods and gives her a hug because she lost her big brother #and he lost his baby brother #and how do process that?? how do you move on??? #was willie the type of brother to grab someone and rub his knuckles over their head? was he the quiet kid who shared his toys? #when his older brother was being 'mean' did he scheme ways to pull pranks on him to make his little sister feel included?? #did he have a tradition with his mom of doing the dishes together while listening to the radio and dancing? #God. how many nights did she cry herself to sleep after doing dishes alone in silence? #did his dad buy him his first skateboard?? did he call him 'sport' and 'buddy' when he kept falling and getting scrapes as he learned how??? #his little sister stole his worn old stuffed animal that he had 'grown out of' and she cried into it at night when she couldn't stop herself #from thinking about how he always helped with her nightmares #his older brother cries when he hears the news and at the funeral but it doesn't hit him until it's his graduation night #and he cant sneak into his room to talk with willie about everything or nothing or how the future will be and his fears and hopes and dreams #because willie isn't there #and he'll never be there to listen again. and he'll never be there when his older brother needs advice on something #or when he wants to talk about a pretty girl that he's crushing on. because willie might not have been big into girls but he always listened #he always listened and now he wouldn't ever be there to listen again #his older brother sobs that night #how many times did his father go up to his room and knock on the door to call him to dinner before remembering there wouldn't be a response? #how many times did he have to lean against his doorway and squeeze his eyes shut and swallow hard because this might have been the 60th time #he forgot. but it never gets easier to remember #because how do you let someone go?? how do you let him go? how do you move on from that? #you don't. you can't.

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

(okay, because this post was getting wayyy long skjahsfkdh @it-tastes-like-lizard i’m making another post)

okay but wingman!soft!caleb is top tier, and i love the idea that although he would tease like crazy, he’d also stop as soon as nick asked him to.

now for the backstory i mentioned thinking up,, haha,,,,, it’s a little sad so buckle in :))

so we’ve already established that covington was offered a deal that he couldn’t refuse (see: ‘Nothing to Lose’ lyrics, at the end of the first verse), in a position similar to the one he put the boys in.

but why? what could possibly make him choose to become someone’s puppet? 

taking into account that 1. he’s INCREDIBLY queer-coded, and 2. he waved off Alex’s flustered explanation about he and Willie’s ‘magic’, and the way he later said ‘including Willie’ (basically just the fact that he’s not homophobic and even looked like he related when he waved Alex off), i’m going to go out on a limb and say he’s queer.

he’s obviously an older ghost, both his age when he died and how long he’s been dead for, so we can safely assume that when Caleb was alive people were even more homophobic than when the boys were living (even if he was only a ghost for a few years before the boys died).

so what if, when Caleb died, he left behind a partner? what if he was mourned?

of course, after that thought we can see multiple ways it could have panned out, to make Caleb accept an offer that was pretty much selling his soul.

maybe his lover was sick, maybe he was dying and Caleb knew that he deserved better, he deserved a life and peace, a chance to be happy. the Mysterious Puppeteer™ could heal him, and really, what else was there to say? at least Caleb could still preform, right? his partner would live, and even if he owed his soul to someone, at least he still had his passion.

or maybe, given the homophobic times, his partner was being stalked, or threatened. “too bad your little magician died, it’d be a shame if you were to just, *disappear* too, like one of his magic tricks” what’s the price of your soul when the person you would have died for anyway might be killed for something as simple as loving you? 

in Caleb’s eyes, maybe it was a good deal. it was an offer he couldn’t refuse, and while he’d be stuck in someone else’s control, he could still preform and his partner would be safe, he’d even have real magic! 

what could go wrong, right?

(and if he felt the slightest unease, so what? and years later if making the boys choose between their passion at the cost of their souls and someone they loved -but also complete death- made him want to scream, well,,,, it was too late to go back. it’s not like he had a choice anyway)

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

with how y’all were reacting to Bobby’s letter,,, y’all about to be even more mad (sad?? >:3)